Before and After
by HB's Favourite
Summary: Drabbles Challenge: a couple of shorts set either side of The Great Outdoors.


**Before and After**

Another couple for the drabbles challenge – this time more in line with the definition of the term. These are set either side of The Great Outdoors. (Those of you who have read my story "Fun & Frolics" will remember Ned...)

**Before the Trip **

'Right girls!' Miss Drill spoke enthusiastically into the coach's microphone, which emitted a high-pitched shrill that caused everyone on board – apart from Miss Hardbroom, of course – to clap their hands over their ears and grimace. 'The coach will drop us about twenty-five miles from here, and then the rest of the journey will be spent on-foot to Murdoch McFee's Adventure Centre.'

There was a unanimous groan from the girls, as Miss Hardbroom strode along the aisle conducting a headcount. Miss Drill set the microphone aside for a moment as she chatted with the driver. Turning back to address the girls, she raised it to her lips once again.

'Just five more minutes, and we'll be off. We have to wait because some of the villagers use this coach to get into town.'

'And it goes without saying,' Miss Hardbroom's voice boomed around the coach without the need for electronic amplification, 'That non-members of the school are to be treated with the same respect afforded to any other member of the community. Do I make myself clear?'

'Yes, Miss Hardbroom,' chorused the girls.

Just as Miss Hardbroom swept a daring look amongst the pupils, old Ned, the local bar-propper from the village pub could be seen heaving himself up the steep steps onto the coach, fiddling in the pocket of his aged tweed jacket for some loose change. He placed his tender, coin by coin, in the driver's tray, mumbling yokel idiom and every now and then wheezing with laughter as though he'd cracked the funniest joke anyone had ever heard. Some of the girls saw Miss Hardbroom roll her eyes as she waited impatiently in the aisle. Shuffling along it as he now was, Ned was obliviously obstructing her route back to her seat at the front of the coach.

'Blimey,' he said, almost colliding with Miss Hardbroom and arching back to observe the statuesque woman before him. 'I'd lose the hat if I were you, old love! They don't takes kindly to 'alloween round these parts, not in May!'

The merest titter erupted amongst the girls as Miss Hardbroom trembled with fury.

'And if I were you, _si__r_,' she hissed, acidly, 'I'd remove yourself from my path this instant! Unless, of course, you'd prefer to be turned into a blob of green slime?'

Each and every girl gaped at the scene before them with a nervous anticipation none had ever felt before – they'd never seen their form mistress interact with someone outside the school premises, and the prospect of her casting a controversial and irreversible spell was almost too much to bear...

Turing a shade of green reminiscent of that which Miss Hardbroom was probably considering, Ned squeezed past her and towards the back of the coach, fumbling in his pocket for a handkerchief with which he mopped his brow before barricading himself in the toilet.

Miss Drill was perusing a copy of _Hiking Heights_ when Miss Hardbroom slid into the seat beside her.

'Everything all right, Miss Hardroom?'

'Quite. Just so you know – the facilities may be... indisposed for the remainder of the journey.'

Imogen nodded blithely, before realisation hit her and her magazine dropped into her lap.

'Constance – what have you done?'

**After the Trip **

The cabin door creaked open. Constance didn't turn to face her visitor. She didn't need to. She scrawled an uneven line on the parchment, in an attempt to look as though she was working.

'I just came to say thank you,' Imogen's voice was cautious. 'For what you did today.'

'For what precisely, Miss Drill?'

'For...' she heard Imogen take a step closer. Her shoulders tensed. 'For casting the spell – to stop the Gloster's Effect.'

'Foster's.' Constance allowed herself a small smile, a smile which didn't extend to her voice.

'Foster's. S-sorry.'

Silence, broken only by the sounds of crackling flames and campfire chants, hung in the air.

'That will be all, will it, Miss Drill?'

There was no reply. Constance sensed that Imogen had nodded briefly, her coat rustling as she retreated back towards the door. She stopped as she laid a hand on the latch.

'Serge really is very nice, you know.'

Constance felt a bitterness in the pit of her stomach. Sinking her teeth into the inside of her cheek, she wondered if she'd have the courage to draw blood.

'It would never have worked, Constance. You and I are too different.'

Constance rolled her eyes at the irony, glad that Imogen couldn't see them.

'Can't you just pretend to be happy for me?'

'There is nothing to pretend, Miss Drill. I am ecstatic for you.'

Imogen said nothing, and shut the door quietly behind her.

Constance closed her eyes, mediating to ignore the humiliation of rejection.

She bit down hard until she tasted fluid like a rusty penny against her tongue.

**x**

_Thanks for reading - please review!_


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